


mastodon morning

by waveydnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: phil hates dan’s music
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 40
Kudos: 250





	mastodon morning

**Author's Note:**

> for amy, who’s having a bad day 🖤

Phil feels good. It’s not a headache day. 

But the moment he steps foot in the flat, he reckons it might become one. 

If only he’d been out at the shops buying bath bombs instead of milk and bread. If only he could avoid the kitchen completely and retreat to a different floor of the apartment and soak in bubbles and warmth, slip his head under the water to drown out… this.

He can’t even shout at Dan to turn it down because… well. Because it’s freaking _loud_ , that’s why. It’s the loudest, most abrasive sound in the known universe probably, played at decibels that will almost undoubtedly have their neighbours calling the cops and making a noise complaint. Again. 

It’s not even just the ‘music.’ That would be bad enough without the guttural screaming. And the lyrics. God, the lyrics. Phil had made the mistake of looking them up once. He reckons even on his worst day with an hour or less he could write something with more nuance than this.

Dan says he’s a pleb. Maybe he is. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t ‘get it.’ He’s okay with that. He kicks his trainers off and braces himself as he makes his way _toward_ the awful, awful sound. 

It’s genuinely hurting his ears by the time he gets to the doorway, but the sight he’s greeted with has him stopping and leaning against the wall. It has him crossing his arms and smiling.

Dan is stood there in his pajamas still with his hair a right mess, Phil can tell even just from the back of his head. He’s elbow deep in sudsy water, scrubbing clean the dishes from the curry Phil had made them the night before. The whole room smells like lemon.

It’s just so Dan. The most confusingly unpleasant music contrasted by the picture of domesticity. He’s wearing slippers, for Christ’s sake. He’s listening to Blood and Thunder with yellow rubber gloves on while he does the washing up to surprise the boyfriend who’s popped to the shop for breakfast necessities. 

Phil puts the bag on the table and walks up behind Dan, who somehow doesn’t even flinch in surprise when Phil wraps his arms around his waist. Phil digs his chin into Dan’s shoulder and Dan turns his head to steal a slightly awkwardly-angled kiss. His mouth tastes like mint. 

Phil snuggles his face into Dan’s neck, and _that_ makes him flinch, but Phil carries on anyway. He’s having a moment. He’s allowed. 

“I hate this,” he says directly into Dan’s ear. He feels more than hears Dan’s giggled response. 

He doesn’t turn it off, not even when he relinquishes his grip on the sleepy-eyed cutie cleaning his kitchen. Instead he fills the kettle and puts it on for coffee. Dan can have his shit music and Phil doesn’t have to understand why he likes it. They’re still going to have toast on the sofa and watch three episodes of their latest anime obsession before they even think about work. 

He does turn it down, though. Dan can have his shouty death metal as long as Phil can avoid a migraine - and maybe steal another cheeky neck nuzzle.


End file.
